Untouchable Rose
by LawlessRuthlessHeartless
Summary: A quiet afternoon in the library for Hermione? I think not. Hermione is kidnapped by Lucius as bait for Harry, and Voldemort isn't exactly planning to let her go- ever.
1. Part one

It was your typical scene of Hermione's afternoon. She was in her favorite place in the world- the library. All that knowledge, captured in the pages and pages of the books around her. She wanted to soak it all up, every inch of it. She sat there, and she tried. Like every other evening, she tried- to retain every word; to remember every fact; to lock it all away within the depths of her mind- no one could, but she tried.

Yes, it was like every other evening. She knew soon Harry and Ron would be peering over her shoulder at the paper she was writing, asking her to do their homework for them, or to copy off of her. What she didn't know was that the real Madam Prince was currently locked in a broom cupboard and wandless, and that it was none other that Lucius Malfoy peering at her from over the top of his glasses. And she suspected nothing as he got up and walked over to her chair in the restricted section.

She merely continued to read her book, trying not to look guilty as he pierced her with his icy stare, identical to Madam Prince's. That's weird, thought Hermione for a moment, not looking away from her paper. I could have sworn Madam Prince was just checking me out... Hm. Too bad she didn't look up and see that was only too true; as Lucius stood there shamelessly looking her up and down out of the corner of his eye. He walked casually behind her chair until he was out of her sight, and cast a silencing charm on her -she didn't even realize- after all, she wasn't exactly babbling away.

Next thing Hermione knew, she was in a full-body-bind hex, being carried to one of the tiny fireplaces located at the back of the library like a piece of furniture. She tried to yell; "Madam Prince! What are you doing? Madam Prince! HELP!" It was then she realized that, one, she coudn't even make a small noise thanks to that silencing charm, and, second, she couldn't open her mouth anyways. "Feeling scared, are we?" Lucius said, making no effort to sound like the librarian he had beaten and locked away.

Hermione's jaw would have dropped from shock if she had have been able to move it. Damn it! She thought. She hated being helpless. Especially at the hands of scum like Lucius Malfoy. No, she wasn't scared, Just furious! How could she not have noticed? Oh, she was such an idiot! She was so obcessed with schoolwork she hadn't even noticed her own librarian acting strangely? The sad thing was, she was in her seventh year- a first year probably could've worked it out to get out of the library as fast as they could go. Maybe if she hadn't been driven to complete the rest of her homework within the next hour, she might have noticed something.

She figured the death stare upon entry was their greeting, these days- it didn't really bother her anymore. She hadn't even noticed the emptiness in the room when she walked in. Boy, it ticked her off whenever she was ignorant. She felt a sharp pain on her head suddenly, and saw that Lucius wasn't exactly watching her head for her as he passed one of the last bookshelves, and one of them had got her hard in the forehead. How are you going to get out of this, Hermione? She thought. You won't... said a tiny, annoying voice in the back of her bushy-haired head. Oh, shut up, she thought.

There must be something I could do... thought Hermione. And yet she came up with nothing. Her thoughts became rather foggy after a while- Darn bookshelf. She stopped thinking shortly after that, and just kind of... let herself go, in a way. A burst of green exploded in her vision- floo powder. The fire was so pretty... She was completely unconcious of the movement Lucius was making, now; it felt rather as though she were floating softly in a dream world, and not being carried away to an unknown place by a man she dispised. And those were the last thoughts she had as her right temple crashed against the side of the library fireplace.


	2. Rusty Cuffs & Hatred

**My sweet goodness gracious... it's been a WHILE, hasn't it? In fact, I'm suprised you clicked on this at all. xD  
Hopefully, you'll find my writing a little better (and my character names a little more dead on, eh? Nudge nudge) than it was before. I must say, I LOVE writing in Bellatrix ^W^ But I'm telling you guys, I'm positively determined to finish this business, one way or another. It must be done... all my previous fics are either being rewritten, or deleted, or continued. I decided not to scrap this one :D Well... would you review, pretty please? Tell me your thoughts, on whatever! Just review, PLEASE :3**

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"Look you credent, the little prat is waking up. Tie her down tighter, will you?"

Hermione's eyelids fluttered, but she kept them closed. Not because she wanted to look as though she was still sleeping -she couldn't fool them now, no matter how thick they were- but because she didn't want to see where she was. She didn't want to try to move, only to discover she was tied down so tightly to some form of table it was cutting off her ciculation. She didn't want to see those disgraceful death eaters looking down on her as though she were roadkill. One question in particular forced itself to the front of her mind, shoving the less important ones aside for later: Why the hell would they want her?

"Bellatrix, I assure you, she _can't move_." She recognized the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy, and would have cringed if every body part she had wasn't tied down. Instead, she shut her eyes shut tighter still. No one seemed to notice.

"Well, we can't be sure with someone like _you_ looking after things, can we? Do it." The voice of the woman spoke. She seemed vaguely farmiliar, but Hermione couldn't quite recall the memory. Which infuriated her yet again, because this was that much more important than knowing her entire 6-foot charms essay on the properties of wand cores off by heart. That didn't have anything to do with whether her life was in danger, possibly if whether she lived.

The clicking of heels rotated in a steady circle about the platform she was strapped to, the unknown woman circling her like a form of slinking predator. The stiletto footsteps came to a stop at the bottom of the table, and Hermione finally decided to open her eyes.

The first things she saw were chains, hanging from the ceiling and ending in cuffs. Everything had a dirty, ancient, look to it. Rust covered the chains and their cuffs, making them look distinctly more painful (some had bars in the middle, clearly meant to go directly through one's wrists). The ceiling had not a semi-clean spot to speak of; and there were darker stains here and there. Hermione could guess very well what those stains were of, and took a deep swallow to keep her breathing from going too fast.

The only form of light came from what seemed like an oil lantern to her right. However, she couldn't know for sure- she could almost sense the strap that crossed her forehead, viciously tight, preventing her from looking to either side. She didn't even try. She was undeniably stuck, and had no idea how long she had been there, slowly losing circulation.

Another two minutes, and she could become dizzy. 30 seconds afterwards, black out for lack of circulation. Another two minutes after that... and sustain irrepairable brain damage. She didn't know how much time she had. An hour, at the most. Unless they had just strapped her down, she really didn't have very much time (was an hour all that much, anyways?).

Hermione heard the stillettos again, taking their time as they clicked their way towards her head. Bellatrix Lestrange sauntered into view, and Hermione could have growled out loud. A physco-bitch with a lust for blood, she hated everything about the woman. And, now that she thought about it, her confident, 'sofisticated' walk as well.

Though Hermione didn't know her well, she knew her well enough to believe there was not a scrap of mercy in her icy heart. Perhaps it had been replaced with lunacy. After all, how else could one possibly torture two people into insanity? Probably even more?

The smile that echoed Bellatrix's state of mind reappeared on her face, but nothing but the insanity reached her heavily-lidded eyes. Hermione did not return the smile; she couldn't. Nor would she had it been possible. She was gagged.

"Have a lovely nap, filthy mudblood?" Hermione wanted to speak so badly, to snap a reply. But not only could she not by force, but if she did, she wasn't sure what Bellatrix might do. What could they possibly want? She couldn't even spit at the horrible woman who was revelling in her helplessness, and simply gave her the most venomous look she could.

"Lucius! Tighten the straps."

There was a shuffling sound near the source of light, and suddenly Bellatix's eyes lit up. She lifted a hand, and the shuffling ceased.

"Even better... Let's have little Draco do it, shall we?" The gag alone prevented Hermione from gasping, and yet again her eyes served to portray her emotions. They grew wider, and she struggled harder, actually managing to twitch her left leg. Bad idea.

"Draco, the squirmy little twit is waiting for you. Come and make these straps a little tighter for Auntie Bella, will you?" She said in mock kindness, as though she were talking to a 5 year-old.

Sick.

The footsteps that approached the table were quiet, not in character for the Draco Malfoy she knew at all. Something was very wrong here. Hermione's eyes flicked wildly from place to place: she was a cornered animal in unknown territory. That was terrifying. Finally, as Hermione's options weren't extensive, her eyes landed on the heavily-lidded woman standing next to her, and she watched as Bellatrix gestured sweepingly with her arm and backed out of Hermione's sight and she was replaced with someone Hermione was no happier to see.

Draco's eyes, however, changed her views on him slightly. They were wide and seemed almost scared, but there was a determined element to the blue-grey depths. Had she been in a more comfortable situation, it would have made her a little more at ease that he didn't want to tie her down harder.

Maybe she could convince him to help her out of... wherever this place was. He was thin-lipped as he reached towards her wrist and undid the strap. Or so it seemed- she couldn't feel her wrist. Hermione felt Bellatix's eyes keep a close watch, switching fractionally between Draco and Hermione every few seconds. Suddenly, Draco stood back. The heavily-lidded eyes of Bellatrix widened.

"What are you doing, Draco?" She snapped, gesturing once again to Hermione, strapped to the table. All of the implied sweetness was gone from her voice.

"The straps will not go tighter."

He said rather quietly, staring at what whould be the wall across the room. The damn wall Hermione couldn't see. "Well, I guess we'll just have to make some adjustments, won't we Draco?" She said, sweeping closer and grasping Hermione's wrist in a vicelike grip that Hermione couldn't sense.

She lifted her wand, opening her mouth to speak a spell that never left her lips. There had been more shuffling towards a direction somewhere behind Hermione's head, and her eyes flicked wildly again. She was no longer angry at herself for being ignorant. True _fear_ had replaced that, penetrating her mind like a parasite and staying there.

Bellatrix's dark eyes were positively on fire when she turned in the direction of the shuffling. "Greyback! _What is it now_?" She hissed, the wand pointing in the unknown man's direction instead. Greyback... Hermione had heard that somewhere before as well.

"The Dark Lord requests to see her."

The man practically growled, the aggression he was implying rivalling that of Bellatrix's. Draco swallowed hard, still staring at the wall, and Hermione noticed. She stared at him relentlessly, trying to convince him into helping her; but he would not turn his gaze from the damn wall.

Hermione's fast breathing was getting faster, and she was limited- her chest was strapped down too, but not as strongly as her other body parts. If only she could _move_. She swore to herself she'd never take her body for granted again: provided she got out of those straps.

Her thoughts were starting to get fuzzy and it was hard to keep her train of thought, as though she were falling asleep. -_No, _she thought to herself, trying to maintain some form of calmness. _don't close your eyes. Don't close your e- _against her will, Hermione's eyes did close, and no one noticed but Draco...

whose eyes remained, still fixed, on the wall.


End file.
